


in the distance there is smoke

by bluedesert



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Avatar the last airbender!AU, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, country boy donghyuck, fire bender renjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedesert/pseuds/bluedesert
Summary: Country boy Donghyuck finds firebender Renjun washed up on the shore of a creek.NCTV Secret Santa 2020 submission!
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	in the distance there is smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sesunmi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sesunmi/gifts).



> Happy holidays!
> 
> Please take my knowledge of the avatar universe with a grain of salt :) 
> 
> Enjoy <3

Gran said to be back before sunset, but it’s not Donghyuck’s fault he lost track of time. He looks up at the chunks of sky visible between the dense treetops. The sunlight is definitely coming in thin and weaning. He shrugs and jumps to the next rock. 

The creek is bloated with water. There was a storm the night before. The rocks are damp and slippery, but he makes his way down the creek without missing a step. It’s something of a game. Jump from rock to rock. Ignore the curious gaze of the water below. Don’t twist an ankle. Don’t slip up. He grins and leaps into the air. 

He makes it all the way to the bridge, though bridge is perhaps too strong of a word. It’s more like a fallen tree than hangs, suspended, a few inches above the water. He once tried to do a cartwheel across it. It’s the only time he’s fallen into the creek (by accident, that is). There’s something unusual about it today, though. He can’t quite yet tell what it is. He slows and steps onto the bridge. He looks off one side. Water runs below the tree. He leans down to dip his fingers in and— _bump_. 

Something hits the tree. Donghyuck tumbles into the water. His clothes soak and he immediately feels goosebumps rise all over. He jolts into a standing position and tries not to shiver, then looks over at the offending object that had caused his fall.

He had expected a log. Debris, maybe, from the storm last night. It certainly looks like something sunken, drowned, washed-up; something chewed up by the teeth of the ocean and spit out again. 

It also takes the shape of a boy. 

Jumping into action, he hauls the boy out of the creek and lays him onto the ground. The boy feels cold and clammy under his fingers. He looks very unconscious. Donghyuck runs his fingers across the boy’s skull and winces when he comes across a nasty bump.

“That hurts,” a raspy voice says. 

“Oh,” Donghyuck breathes out in relief, “good.” 

The boy groans and tries to sit up. He promptly twists and hacks out half a lung of water. Donghyuck pats his back wearily. 

“Nothing—” the boy says “—about this—” he takes in a shuddering breath “—is good.”

“Yes, well. Good thing you’re alive,” Donghyuck points out. 

The boy rolls his eyes with impressive violence. “Where am I anyway? Where is my ship?” 

Donghyuck chuckles. “Probably broken up in a million pieces on the coast.”

“What coast?” the boy demands.

Donghyuck tilts his head. “The coast… of the Earth Kingdom.” 

What other coast would the boy be thinking of? The Fire Nationcoast? The coast of the North Pole? He must be joking.

But the boy doesn’t laugh. His expression seems to neutralize. He nods slowly. “The Earth Kingdom.” 

“Where do you live?” Donghyuck says, already dreaming of dropping off this weird, half-dead, soaked stray in one of the neighboring villages. 

“I don’t know,” the boy says.

Donghyuck frowns. “What do you mean you don’t _know_?” 

“I think I hit my head.” 

Donghyuck stares at him. The boy stares back. His eyes widen with innocence. He looks pale and gaunt. He looks like one of the boys from the fishing villages. One who had ventured a little too far from home. One who had got caught up in a storm and hit his head. 

Except he doesn’t. Not at all.

“Okay,” Donghyuck says, “Come with me.” 

“Where?”

“I’ll take you home.”

*** 

Gran, as expected, takes to the injured boy like a moth to a flame. She wraps him up in their warmed blanket, fills him to the brim with tea, and yet doesn’t manage to wrangle a single detail out of him. And no one can say no to Gran. 

“Where is your family, honey?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Where did you grow up?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Do you recognize the area? The trees? The people?” 

“I don’t know.” 

The only thing the boy gives them is a name. 

“Renjun, sweetie, you can take Donghyuck’s bed. Donghyuck will sleep on the couch.”

And Donghyuck is too busy staring at Renjun’s face, trying to crack it open to see what’s underneath, to be upset about the fact that he lost his room to a total stranger. 

“He’s a total stranger,” he whispers vehemently as Renjun heads into the bedroom to change into a pair of pajamas. 

“It’s not about trusting strangers,” Gran says as she takes out an extra set of bed sheets. Donghyuck immediately jumps up to help her. “It’s about helping someone in need.”

“You know he’s lying. He knows who he is.” 

“Probably.”

“Isn’t that highly suspicious?” Donghyuck fluffs the pillows violently. 

“Some people have very good reason to forget who they are,” Gran answers, then turns away. “Help Renjun prepare the bed.”

Donghyuck goes quietly. He hands Renjun the clean sheets stiffly, hesitates, then stays to help strip the bed. His fingers nimbly fit the sheet over the corner while he watches Renjun. 

Could he be running away from something? Hiding from something? Is someone chasing him? What if they find him here, what would they do to him? Or is he running towards something? Towards escape, towards freedom? 

“I don’t trust you,” Donghyuck says. Mostly just to see Renjun’s reaction. 

There it is: a flicker of a frown. Then Renjun’s face smooths out once again. “That’s okay,” he says in a sweet voice, “I haven’t given you any reason to.”

“Do you need help?” Donghyuck asks.

“I can take it from here,” Renjun says, smoothing down the blanket.

“No,” Donghyuck says impatiently, “I mean: do _you_ need help?” 

Renjun tilts his head. “I can do the rest by myself, thanks.” 

Donghyuck scowls. Those big, pretty eyes look so innocent. He’s playing dumb. Donghyuck doesn’t trust him. Then again, Renjun clearly doesn’t trust Donghyuck. It’s a bidirectional relationship; no unrequited feelings. There is mutual mistrust. 

“Okay,” Donghyuck says. He’ll try again in the morning. 

Before he leaves, he lights a candle in Renjun’s room. It’s getting too dark to see without it. He stares at the flame for a moment. The flame stares back. He turns around. Renjun stares at him. He stares back. 

“Put out the light before you go to bed,” he says. 

That night, he dreams of the way the light of the candle had danced on Renjun’s cheekbones. 

*** 

Gran sends them to the market to pick up some food. The market is a screeching, whirling mess of dirt-footed children chasing each other, peddlers desperately promising fortune among their tokens and charms, farmers bringing in this year's harvest. The fruits and vegetables this year are sad and wilting.There was no one to work the farms. Everyone with the ability to work a farm is off working weapons. 

The vendors watch the children with sharp eyes. The children watch the vendors back. Nevertheless, Donghyuck picks through the baskets carefully to find any bright and flavorful hidden gems. 

Renjun is quiet at his side. His stare is wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He runs his hands through the green fabric of tunics for sale. “These are beautiful,” he says. 

“Yes,” Donghyuck says. He has a traditional robe, hand sewed and designed by Gran, buried in the back of his closet. There hasn’t been much occasion to wear such festive clothing recently. 

The vendor eyes them suspiciously, so Donghyuck hurries Renjun along. 

“Best not to call too much attention to yourself,” he says.

To Donghyuck’s surprise, Renjun agrees easily and they get the rest of the shopping gets done in no time. They walk along the dirt road, each carrying a basket of food. Donghyuck’s stomach rumbles at the thought of Gran’s stew. 

Renjun had been stiff and silent all morning. But now as they walk, keeping a certain amount of distance between themselves, Donghyuck senses a different kind of silence. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Donghyuck complains, hiding his curiosity behind annoyance. 

Renjun shoots him a scowl but doesn’t take the bait. Donghyuck let’s himself walk a little closer. 

“Having too many thoughts in your brain can be awfully dangerous,” he continues. 

“None of your business,” Renjun snaps. 

“Fine,” Donghyuck says icily, drawing away. 

Renjun sighs and comes closer. “What is happening around here?” he asks quietly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Where are— where are your parents? Where are the young people? Why are people so weary of strangers? Why is there so much _watching_?” 

Donghyuck stops in his tracks. Something suddenly clicks into place. Renjun must be from the capital. It’s so obvious: the way he carries himself, the way he looks so out of place in those drab brown clothes. There’s something noble about the softness of his hair and the delicate curve of his lip. 

If there’s one thing Donghyuck knows about the capital, it is that there is no war there. 

“Renjun,” he says slowly, “we are at war.”

He expects a gasp of surprise, or at the very least deep confusion. Renjun just nods. 

“And?” 

“Well,” Donghyuck says, something angry curling in his chest. What a nice life Renjun must have had, to be so ignorant. “War is about more than heroes and villains and people who breathe fire like monsters.”

Something dark crosses Renjun’s face. 

“Everyone is gone, fighting. The farms are left uncared for, children are left hungry. _This_ ,” he gestured vaguely, metaphorically, “is what war looks like.” 

The sky is a beautiful shade of blue, not a cloud in the sky. The weather, on top of that, is perfect. The heat is perfectly balanced out by a cool breeze. Renjun’s hair moves a little with the wind. But between them— or maybe _around_ them— is something incredibly true and raw and ugly at first glance, painful at the second. 

It’s in that moment this stranger becomes someone beautiful. Renjun puts a hand on his shoulder, eyes are bright and intelligent. He doesn’t say something like “I’m sorry” or “this is wrong” because that is already understood, already implied. He just stands there, close, at a loss for words because what are words in the face of war? Is it presumptuous to put that kind of feeling into something as structured as languages— wrapped up neatly in subject-verb-object packages. 

He just stands close and Donghyuck can see the pores on his nose, feel the heat of his skin, hears the breath that comes out, and Donghyuck thinks that just this once he wants to trust in another human being. 

“Let’s go home,” he says. 

*** 

It’s funny that as soon as Donghyuck decides to trust in a stranger, Renjun starts to become more and more familiar. When it becomes clear that he’s not leaving anytime soon (or maybe, that he has nowhere to go) they set up a room for him in the attic. 

Donghyuck gets to know him during slow mornings when they’re struggling to speak coherently over coffee; he gets to know the way he hangs the laundry up carefully and efficiently in the backyard; he learns all the ways Renjun jumps over the creek, as nimble and fast as Donghyuck, as if this creek was his longtime friend; he memorizes the sound of Renjun’s laugh and the way his footsteps fall down the creaky stairs. 

He doesn’t know who Renjun _is,_ but he’s starting to feel like he might know _Renjun_. And it’s clear that Renjun is 1) utterly fascinating (Donghyuck could listen to him talk for hours, but he hides this revealing fact with relentless teasing and feigned indifference) and 2) very sad about something. 

He gets into these moods at night where he sits by the fireplace, staring at the flame with a barely-there gaze. Donghyuck doesn’t know what he lost, but somewhere in there is an identity and a world that Renjun ran away from/was exiled from/or something. 

Donghyuck doesn’t ask what happened. It’s the one line he won’t cross. He just hopes that Renjun’s loss doesn’t feel alone, because it’s quite at home here. It sits with panicked, hurried letters that arrive from Donghyuck’s parents; the way Gran’s hands begin to shake one day and then never stop; the knowledge that one day a solider might knock on the door and pull Donghyuck into the line of fire; and the ever present threat that everything he knows might be burned down to the ground by the Fire Nation. 

The undeniable truth is that between moments of joy and fascination and butterflies, it is a sad household. Or maybe, between moments of pain and loss and sadness, it is a joyful household. 

More than anything though, Renjun has carved (or maybe stolen) a space for himself in Donghyuck’s home and mind. If Renjun ever leaves (or goes back to where he came from) Donghyuck is worried he’ll be left with an empty attic and a gaping, bleeding hole in his future.

They’re sitting on the roof and Donghyuck is hit with a sudden bout of vertigo, looking at the fall ahead of him. He closes his eyes and sways until his head is nestled in Renjun’s lap. Renjun pulls at his hair painfully. Donghyuck bites his fingers. They laugh at the absurdity of it all. Then Donghyuck sits up, light headed, and kisses Renjun’s chapped lips. Renjun kisses him back, but only for a moment. 

“I have a secret,” Renjun says. 

“I don’t care,” Donghyuck says, and kisses him again. 

In the distance, there is smoke. 

***

Donghyuck didn’t know he could become so consumed by a single person. He spends hours and hours running his hands down Renjun’s back, over his shoulders, fingers trailing over his hipbones and his eyelids. 

There are moments that he believes will be burned into his memories forever. Donghyuck whining about something stupid, then Renjun laughing and kissing his nose and calling him cute. Renjun’s eyes as they watch the stars and the sky and the fire. The way his eyes screw shut as he reaches climax. Donghyuck is so delighted and enraptured by Renjun he forgets to be afraid. 

The fear comes back though. In the middle of the night, with Renjun’s hair tickling his cheek, he startled awake. 

“What is it?” Renjun asks sleepily. 

“I just have this _feeling_ ,” Donghyuck says. 

Then they hear it. Crashing and burning and screaming. The Fire Nation is here. 

They spring out of bed, and put on their jackets and shoes. They help Gran get out of her sleep wear while shooting each other worried looks. What will they do? Run away? Where to? How? 

Renjun seems to have a plan. He instructs them to gather basic supplies into small packs. Gran is confused but doesn’t ask questions. Donghyuck can barely think through the panic. He starts to smell smoke.

They spill through the front door, only to find three Fire Nation soldiers waiting for them, hands on fire. 

_This is it_ , Donghyuck thinks, grabbing onto Gran’s hand and reaching for Renjun. But Renjun slips out of his grasp and jumps straight towards the soldiers. Donghyuck cries out as the soldiers blast a stream of fire towards Renjun. 

The sound is stolen from Donghyuck’s throat as Renjun ducks, rolls out of the way, then fire erupts from his palms and he burns through the soldiers’ armor. The smell of burning flesh mingles with the heavy smoke in the air. Donghyuck begins to laugh hysterically. 

“Get it together,” Renjun snaps. “We need to get to the water. Will you take us there?” 

The panic bubbling in Donghyuck’s chest subsides as he quickly conjures up a map in his head. Their house, the dirt road that leads into the village and the market place, the forest around them and the creek. 

They head into the trees. Donghyuck is in front, navigating. Gran keeps their breakneck pace without complaint. Renjun goes last, hands alight with fire to break through the darkness. 

The creek is unperturbed by the commotion. It flows like it always had. They pass by the spot Donghyuck has found Renjun, half drowned and unconscious. They continue until the creek widens into a river, then spills out into the ocean. 

A huge ship looms from that water’s edge. Renjun puts out the light, and they hide undercover of darkness as they watch Fire Nation soldiers stream out of the ship. 

“There,” Gran says, pointing to a smaller ship off to the side. They begin to creep their way onto the shore with bated breath. Donghyuck can hear the soundtrack of shouting generals and soldier’s footsteps clear as day. 

They work quickly, preparing the unknown ship for sail. Still, no one notices them. But as soon as the sails have risen and the ship begins to move, fireballs rain on them. 

“Faster, faster,” Renjun urges. He stands at the bow of the ship, and answers every fireball sent their way with one of his own. They crash into each other and explode in an imitation of fireworks. It’s perversely beautiful, in the same way Donghyuck feels betrayed and in love all at once. 

They make it far enough that the Fire Nation seems to give up on their small ship and turns its attention back to the village. Donghyuck is distinctly aware that he’s abandoning the farmers and children and everyone else in the village. But this is war, he reminds himself, and there are no good people. 

“I’m so sorry,” Renjun says, “I couldn’t tell you. I thought you would— I don’t know— turn me in or something.” 

“Nonsense,” Gran says. “We wouldn’t have. You aren’t one of _them_. Not everyone who plays with fire is a Fire Nation soldier.” 

Sad sparks shoot from Renjun’s fingers. “This is who I am though. I could do terrible things.” 

“And yet you don’t,” Gran says. 

“I did,” Renjun says. He turns his gaze to Donghyuck. When he was facing the very real possibility of being burned into crisp he had looked calm and focused. Now he looks terrified. 

Donghyuck reaches for Renjun’s hand. He turns it over to stare at his palm. It looks the same as always. He traces the creases in the skin, then kisses each of Renjun’s fingers. They’re a little bit warmer than usual, but not by much. Renjun watches him in fear. Donghyuck wants to cry. 

“I love you,” Donghyuck confesses. Amid the pain and the loss and the shades of gray morality, it’s the only truth Donghyuck has. 


End file.
